Mali got four vaccinations: HepA, HepB, Polio, and DTaP (we're still catching up, as the nurse remarked rather sniffily). Leo was a good sport as he'd been told many times we were going to the doctor for Mali, not for him. He did not ask to go to the bathroom even once as is his usual doctor's office MO, he did not get upset when Mali cried. And she cried a lot, as I would have if my arms were that tiny and were being stuck by needles that long and thick. But even the shots couldn't get her to let go of the office's copy of The Bears' Vacation, which she kept reading aloud between injections:
"I'm watching Dad, I'm all set to...OWWWWWWWWWWWW!" **sob** "...go..." *sniff* "Then here..." *hic* "here is the..." *sniff* "first rule you should know...OWWWWWWW!"10:05
Toys R Us for a vaccination-survivor's treat: a "Little Miss Pet Shop" "Like SuperGirl's! The funny dog with the big wide head and long body!"
Ooooh, and they have soccer-ball sized jelly urchin balls! Leo immediately ran up and grabbed one and said, "Mommy, I want a jellyfish please." It is rare for him to have a non-food request, so of course I tell him yes, he can have it.
Change mind about taking the kids hiking at Butano and text Seymour, asking if he'd like company during lunch.
Haircut place to lose four inches of Mali's hair. Goodbye, last of the baby curls, you are tangly and impossible to brush and when you're attached to the the head of a third child, your sentimental value does not compensate sufficiently. We already saved a lock from Mali's very first haircut. BYE.
Mali now has a swingy little bob.
Seymour texts back. He has a one-hour window.
We brave the freeway-inaccessible retail maelstrom that is the Serramonte Center and score a parking spot close to Rubio's, purveyor of San Diego-style comfort food. I realize with much joy that a European-style bakery (a.k.a. Leo-croissant-provider) has been installed next door! Good news as I intentionally went out the door sans bags of Leo snacks so that he wouldn't ask me for food every five minues, hoping that the Universe would provide a Leo lunch opportunity.
Retrieve Seymour from work and head toward Franklin Square Park, which has been tranformed into The Best Playground Ever and is wheelchair-accessible and fenced and has lots of parking and places to picnic and all sorts of gross motor and tactile and balance activities and OMFG even that endangered beast, the merry-go-round! Seymour and I were impressed and intend to make these lunches a habit during the kids' breaks. Mali became too excited to eat even though she'd been complaining about her empty tummy all the way from Serramonte, and Leo also played non-stop (though he ate first, being a practical boy):
Franklin Square Park Panorama stitched together by the idiot-proof freeware HugIn
Head home and watch our current favorite show, The Penguins of Madagascar. It is so f'ing brilliant.
Swimming. For a loooooong time. I hate to get wet and so observe.
Leo has a giant distended belly from drinking three gallons of pool water. There has to be some kind of bitter flavor we could add to the water to make it unpalatable yet still swimmable. Too bad saltwater conversions are so expensive; he doesn't drink ocean water.
Post-pool Leo pitstop, then run to the local independent bookstore (Mali falls asleep enroute and has to be carried the entire time; another desperately needed post-pool-pitstop upon arrival) to retrieve some good hard fantasy for Seymour's Fathers Day present. Clerk is very excited about my choice, not so thrilled that Leo makes funny noises and keeps bumping his kiosk, even after I asked him to stop. Sigh. I need one hand to hold up sleeping Mali, and one hand to pay for my purchases, sir, apologies.
Grocery store. Wakeful Mali. Another immediate and enormous post-pool-pitstop upon arrival. I am tired from weeks of ovescheduling both good and bad, and splurge on a bought dinner: carrot soup, tabouli (one of the lighter and cheaper items in the by-weight salad bar), and a seeded baguette. The presence of the latter is apparently enough to prevent a dinner roll tantrum from Leo, whew.
Home. Make dinner for Leo. Tweet about funny things Mali says.
Excursions are done for the day, kids are tuckered (mission accomplished), time to turn on our version of domestic. We wait for Seymour to return home to his nice, tired family.